||{𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚢𝚖í𝚊}||

𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳

¹

The cold of the winter would nip angrily on my skin and his red cape drapped on my shoulders, watching him chop down wood with nothing but his white button downs.

I could stare at him for hours outside, smiling as the taste of sweet tea waters on my tongue, his crimson eyes could set anyone's soul a-flame

Despite that I know that those are the same eyes that would stare at me fondly like I were his prized jewel

And his calloused hands that could break someone's skull, dipped in his enemies blood and weilds the most sacred of weapons and even that doesn't bother me

They don't bother me even when they're gently grounding my shoulders like a scarf as he tells me about the tales in the books that I've already heard a thousand times before

And his contagious laugh that warms up my chest and gently pulls up the corners of my cracked lips into a smile

The Tundra may be cold but he is full of warmth.

I wish I could run my hands on his scalp gentler than a feather, and hide my face in the crook of his neck and relish his warmth.

He could lift me up with ease and spin me around, a joyous laughter shared between as both, almost never ending.

I would like to play a little game with him, I'd chuckle and snicker as I hide behind the tree's, barely hearing his heavy footsteps behind me in the barren snow

He'd pretend to fail to catch me and let me run deeper, I'd watch him smile behind me as i get lost in the beauty of nature.

The same way I get lost in his wine red eyes.